


Three Kisses That Didn’t Happen and One That Did

by reversatility



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversatility/pseuds/reversatility
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another post-4X11 fic, but mostly some AU flashbacks.  I think of each of these as first kisses, although it’s possible to imagine at least some of these happening in the same timeline (I mean, there can never be too many Root/Shaw kisses, you know, ones where no one gets mortally wounded afterwards).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Kisses That Didn’t Happen and One That Did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donteatmyfingerprints](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donteatmyfingerprints/gifts).



**1\. Strike While the Iron Is Hot [2X16]**

“And just when we were starting to really connect.” She injects an apologetic tone into her words, for she does truly regret the interruption. “I’m sorry, a little rude I know.”

There’s barely enough time to even really gather her things, but as she passes Shaw and catches her gaze – direct and unafraid despite her situation, despite what had almost happened to her – something draws her back.

There’s a hiss of steam from the iron on the floor, and the characteristic tang of heated metal and water fills her nostrils as she leans over her captive. She probably only imagines Shaw’s eyes dropping to her mouth; smiling, she touches her lips almost playfully to those of the woman restrained beneath. Shaw’s mouth doesn’t move though her eyes, still somewhat dull from the effects of the sedative, widen a touch. The lightness of the kiss makes it almost tender, but what Root feels is the deliciousness of discovering an adversary who might actually be *fun*.

She leaves Shaw with as sweet a promise as she can make.

“We will do this again soon.”

 

**2\. Keep Your Enemies Closer [3X06]**

“ _This is the part where you give me one good reason to believe anything you say_.”

The space of the car becomes even smaller when Shaw, cut free, seizes her by the shirt and snarls, knife aimed at her neck. Shaw is so in her face that Root could kiss her, she thinks, and a smirk begins to curl her lips. But it’s Shaw who makes the move, abruptly closing the distance between their mouths and immediately demanding entry as her free hand seizes a fistful of Root’s hair. The more aggressive Shaw gets – her tongue probing more deeply, more forcefully, teeth rough on Root’s lips – the more Root yields. With her eyes fluttered shut, she imagines yielding to this woman in other ways: letting her push her down, onto a bed or onto her knees, opening up for her, having Shaw fuck her fast and hard enough to leave blood and bruises. She thinks that the knife blade might still be pretty close to her neck – an exciting bonus – but when she moans into Shaw’s mouth, it’s suddenly over as Shaw releases her hold and pushes her head away. Opening her eyes with the smallest of sighs, Root lets the smirk fully take hold of her face as she observes anger replacing arousal in Shaw’s features.

“October 2nd, 1988.”

 

**3\. Takes Two to Tango [4X09]**

They have been dancing around this for so long, and now Shaw is actually in her arms, warm and real and *alive*. In the relative calmness of the truck after their revved-up escape, Root allows herself to come down just a notch. She closes her eyes briefly, taking in the sounds and motions of them both breathing hard against each other.

“You can let go now.”

“I could.”

But she doesn’t, and as Shaw pushes back slightly and turns around, Root is further disarmed by a rare uncertainty on Shaw’s face, like she’s searching for the answer to a question she hasn’t actually asked. Root opens her mouth, quip on the tip of her tongue, and shuts it again. And then she lets her eyes close as she dips her neck down and feels Sameen pulling her head towards her. She doesn’t know which one of them was the first to move like this, bringing their mouths together with urgent passion. She only knows that she’s been waiting forever for it, for something more than the banter that has become routine, for something that lets her pour the roiling of her heart into the tangle of their tongues, into the way their hands are moving over each other’s faces. If they keep this up, she is going to need Shaw’s hands lower, and even now, Root does not forget what her main goal is. Aware also that Harold is anxiously awaiting news, she slowly breaks the kiss, leaving one hand on Sameen’s cheek. It takes Shaw barely any time to shed the intimacy of the last few moments, recomposing herself into a familiar brusque annoyance as she shakes Root off. But Root’s eyes and voice remain bright as she speaks into the comm.

“I’ve got her, Harry.”

 

**4\. This is Someday [4X11]**

When it happens, it is nothing like she has imagined. It is too crowded here, for on her left flank is Fusco, on her right Harold, and behind them all John sprawled wounded on the floor ( _too many people, and too many people who might die_ ). It is too desperate, Shaw’s curt assessment of what is required gnawing at her even as she feels Shaw’s fingers grasp her shoulders and her mouth on hers the way she never has ( _Is this what it takes, Sameen? When the first time will be the last?_ ). It is too brief ( _but how long would ever be enough?_ ), their contact abruptly terminated as she hears Shaw’s grunt and then her own, finding herself flung backwards into Fusco, windless for just a moment too long.

When it happens, it is much more than she could have ever imagined. Because it is Shaw finally looking at her with her eyes as soft as Root has ever seen. It is Shaw seizing hold of her and crashing their lips together in a way that shouts, _For God’s sakes, yes, this is real_ and _It really could only come to this_. It is the milliseconds after the stun recedes just enough for Root to register that Shaw was kissing her like she had never wanted anything, never *felt* anything more intensely before in her life.

When it ends, everything that comes afterwards as she is trapped in the cage of the elevator sears her like a brand. Her eyes, her ears, her mind, her heart. Her soul.

Sorrow will be her fuel forever, rage will be her flame, and as she burns and burns, it will sear everything into memory even more. And if, in brief respites from conflagration and carnage, she imagines kisses and caresses that never were, only the Machine will know of these moments of weakness. (And maybe She will even understand that Root is saving a sliver of a shred of humanity in herself, just in case Shaw is still out there. _Just in case I find you again, Sameen_.)


End file.
